


Do You Ever

by chocochurros



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 18:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12688215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocochurros/pseuds/chocochurros





	Do You Ever

Do you ever

Meet someone

And then you know them for years and years, but you only see them for one week out of the whole year, every year?

And then suddenly one year you wake up and you realize

This man must father my children.

So

You go the week without telling him

And you just admire him from afar

You only tell one person because you don't trust anyone else

But she's not the smartest and you're not exactly friends anymore but she doesn't realize that but you're sort of scared that you hurt her feelings by continually brushing her off because while you don't dislike her as a person you just don't click anymore and you're not mature enough to know how to tell her maturely (well actually that's not true, you know exactly how to say it but you can't work up the courage) so now she sort of looks at you like a kicked puppy so you know you've done something that finally brought her to realize it since she's usually so oblivious and overly cheerful but you don't want to say anything because that would just be more pain so now because of your immaturity you're not going to be able to talk to her easily next year even though it's not really her fault. She thought you were friends and just.... Took it a little too far. She's innocent far more innocent than is safe and she gets overexcited and now she thinks she's done something wrong.

But moving on.

Other than her you did tell that one clique that never exactly openly disliked you but never liked you either so you always stayed away from cuz you always figured they hated having you around offhandly that "Is it just me, or is ** suddenly really cute?" and everyone just made noises of "meh" and inwardly you wonder how anyone could be so ignorant because this boy is such a god.

Besides being physically attractive, he's considerate, kind, mature, respectful, responsible, thoughtful, funny, knows how to make you feel special and is just all-around your dream guy, but you can tell that it's real, somehow, in a way that you almost can't put into words, even though those are usually your specialty. Maybe it's because it's developed slowly, over the years; maybe it's because sometimes when you get flirty he acts careful, like he picks up on it, but you don't think that's a bad sign the way he does it; maybe it's those sideways glances he gives you sometimes that you never seem him give anyone else, and those glances are what carry you through the week on angels' wings; maybe it's because he's so much more mature than the other cliquey, jockish, snobby boys his age, that is, your age; and not only is he So much more mature than them, he's just so much more, he's just so perfect, and you know you're in love because something tells you that you've been in love with him for years, you've just never quite admitted it to yourself, even if you've always been half-aware of it; because your heart leaps for joy because you know that someday he'll be yours; because you know that, even if for nothing else, you'll always come back for that one week out of the year just to see him. And you'll keep thinking about him for those other 51 weeks.

So for the rest of the week you - well, you don't exactly admire him from afar, for the most part. Of course, you do some of that, though that's never quite been your style. You know what you want now, but moving too fast would spoil everything. And you're both still young yet, so you only want to plant seeds. What kind of seeds? you ask yourself. Do you hope that he thinks about you, too? Of course you do! But what kind of seeds? You're not sure how to even explain it to yourself, but you do your best. A casual rapport, one that you've always had with him. Both of your are loners, not quite a member of any of the cliques. You both have some sort of intuitive superiority - not in a stuck -up way, but something that allows you to talk more openly and frankly; some sense of outsider-ness over which you silently bond. You're similar, and you know it. You've never had trouble approaching him for conversation, because you know that you can talk about anything without fear. That's just how he is, charismatic and understanding.

And while you don't quite have trouble talking to him, because you're so much more than a cliche - nor do you feel helpless, because that's not your style, though your heart does a weird sort of whoooosh when you think of kissing him someday - things don't have the same childish simplicity they used to. You're not the same. That's not quite a bad thing, you suppose - after all, you're still silent companions, commentators on the actions of the others, and you guide him through so many anecdotes and suggestions and even manage to score a seat beside him for the end-of-the-week show (by switching with the one other person, who you forgot to mention, who knows your secret - and the look he gave you when you silently asked to switch seats seemed so normal at the time, but after how he looked at you on moving -out day, everything's suddenly in a different light and after how it made you think long and hard you're not so sure anymore) so that you could talk together during it, and so that you could try not to squeal when your knees casually brushed and he didn't pull away, you guide him just like you would guide him if you were his girlfriend or his wife and is he just oblivious or is he leading you on or is he not sure what to do? Does he like you back and not want to ruin what you already have? It's clear that you have an unusual relationship, from the way he looked at you once or twice when he was dancing at the coming-of-age celebration, dancing like no one was watching (but he knew that you were. Oh, you wanted to dance with him so badly. Did you push too hard? Did you make it too obvious? You read too much into things, maybe it's possible that it flew over his head - but no, he's smarter than that), but maybe you're reading too much into it. You always do, anyway.

But you carry on. You hope you're doing well. You nearly die when he compares your singing to that of one of your idols, and you just talk so easily! Right after that, you talk about Heathers, which you both have differing viewpoints on, but he tolerates you. You respect each others' views. And really, that's one of the things you love the most about him. He can respect something without being a huge fan of it, like the musical. He accepts it at face value, something none of the others your age act old enough to do, and he seems almost to enjoy it when you start singing! Fond smile. He accepts it, doesn't mind. Tolerate isn't quite the word, but it's how you'd describe his thoughts on the musical in the past. What does that mean? And you just talk like it's the easiest thing in the world. Something about the two of you clicks, you can feel it. You click differently than you've ever clicked with anyone before. You could talk about anything with him and come away with a richer, more balanced perspective, because you'll always be willing to listen to him. He could challenge anything you think you know and you'd listen, because you'll know he has a reason. And you want nothing more than to grow old with him. You want to spend your lives there for each other, showing him your interests and getting into his as well. Balance. Mutual enjoyment of each others' company, something you already seem too have, even if it gets harder to talk to him as your feelings get stronger because he's just so close and yet so far away, and it's always on the tip of your tongue. Of course, you're not going of blurt anything out because you're not a cliche and you're not stupid and you're a practiced orator, but still, you ache to tell him. You ache to embrace him, to cry into his shoulder when you need to and let him cry into yours. A team. All you need is a deep conversation, because you never seem to have them together (why is that? You only talk about the nothings with him, a light conversational dance that skirts around the silent truths that are looming over both of your heads), but something in his eyes tells you that you could, so easily. His eyes say he wants to talk, and yet he's usually so laconic. Except when he's funny. Which he's very good at.

At least, you always laugh, even if no one else does. He's witty, in a way you've only ever seen in yourself before.

His eyes hold things unspoken, and you wonder if they'll stay that way. All you want to do is talk to him, talk with him, grow old with him, be parents together, get a pet, be domestic, and just talk all the while. Smile and laugh and learn from every mistake, no matter how hard it is, because something tells you that the two of you would always be willing to grow together.

No matter how. Hard. It. Is. To wait the next 51 weeks until you see him again.


End file.
